


Good Shot

by weenies



Series: Four Years, Minimum [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Mickey's POV, Season 3, a brief look at season 1 and 2 in the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3405047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weenies/pseuds/weenies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey had been seeing Ian since he was sixteen, when dirt covered his face, grease filled his hair, and the Milkovich’s water bill went unpaid for most months of the year</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Shot

Mickey had been seeing Ian since he was sixteen, when dirt covered his face, grease filled his hair, and the Milkovich’s water bill went unpaid for most months of the year. His father was in jail and his mother spent their money chasing a high that could never quite get rid of the damage caused by the monster that shared her bed. Mickey and his siblings ate whatever they could steal and spent many nights hungry. A few days before their father got out of prison their mother skipped town. Terry told them she died a few weeks later, but she had been dead long before she left.

The brothers had banded together in the months before her death when their dad had left the house to chaos, inflicting pain on any who crossed them.  When Mandy came home in tears, inaudible sobs about a boy down the street, he was furious.  He couldn’t fight the demons that plagued his mother, he couldn’t fight the hunger that settled in their empty stomachs, but he could fight the boy that hurt his sister. There wasn’t much he could control but his flying fists and bruised knuckles.

Except he couldn’t even control those because bruised knuckles and flying fists couldn’t keep the boy with a tire iron from getting under his skin.

*

This boy was like a beacon of good in an overall shitty existence. And god was he good. Ian talked of community college and Mickey like he wouldn’t always be stuck on the Southside, fucked for life. He looked at Mickey like he wasn’t just dirt and grease and bruises, grabbed his hips like they weren’t just the bones of a thug.

Mickey had been seeing Ian since he was sixteen, when he could convince himself that it was just sweat and muscle and sex. As the moonlight reflected on the chain link fence behind him, he was finding it increasingly difficult to stop the knot in his stomach from forming every time Ian smiled at him and the twitch of his lips that threatened to return it. He had just gotten out of juvie and Mickey was getting this worked up over a fucking smile.

 _You want to chit chat some more or you wanna get on me?_ Because sweat and muscle and sex was safe.  

Until it isn’t and they’re caught and Mickey wishes he were safe. He wants Gallagher too but he’s comes to the realization that the two things don’t always go together.

*

They pick up where they left off but it’s different. There is a lasting tension, an unspoken challenge hanging between them.

Linda lets them off work early and they head to the rooftop before Ian goes back to the group home, before he comes over later on to stay the night. They get to the abandoned building and Ian is talking again. About school. About ROTC. About his life after this shitty neighborhood. About his life after Mickey.

 “I cut my mile time by fifteen seconds” but Mickey hears _I’m one step closer to leaving you._

This—whatever the fuck this was—was never meant to last. Ian had a plan. Ian was going to get out of the Southside and no matter how much Ian tried to convince him otherwise, Mickey knew he never would.

“That’s not going to help much when you got a bunch of bullets flying at you”

“Yeah, but I’ll have a gun to”

“Whatever man, it’s your ass on the line not mine”

“You’d know all about asses and bullets, wouldn’t you” Ian smiled and dropped the cigarette, stepping on it a couple of times with his shoe.

“Fuck you”

“If you’re lucky”

Mickey reaches over to swat at the side of Ian’s head, but the redhead catches his hand mid-swing and uses the split second of surprise to pull Mickey into him. He quickly surges forward and traps Mickey against the concrete wall of the abandoned building.

“Get off of me”

Instead, Ian slots his leg in between Mickey’s and begins to rut against the older boy. Mickey lets out an involuntary moan and reaches up to grasp at Ian’s arms where they sit on his waist.

“What was that?”

“Fu—Gallagher” Mickey said with wide eyes as Ian picked up the pace. “Just fucking get on me”

“Can’t. Didn’t bring anything” So Ian drops to his knees and makes quick work of his zipper.

Mickey lets himself to get lost in the sensation of Ian’s mouth around him, imagining life and circumstance that allow this, his time with Gallagher, to be more than fleeting.

Ian tells Mickey sometime after their post-orgasm high settles that he’d be fine in the army. _I’m a good shot._

Mickey knows that it’s true. Sometimes they’d both practice shooting at one of Mickey’s makeshift target ranges. Ian made him replace the more offensive targets for simple bull’s-eyes. Ian is a good shot.

And Ian just wants Mickey to give his heart in a way that life had never allowed him to. So when he can’t, Ian leaves with words like _four years, minimum_ that sound a lot like a trigger being pulled. Ian has impeccable aim and Mickey soon learns there is pain much worse, that resonates deeper than metal piercing flesh ever could.

**Author's Note:**

> That ended kind of sad, but the ending of season 3 was tough. I hope I was able to capture the essence of their relationship (in Mickey's eyes) throughout the first two seasons and into the 3rd, where this fic takes place. I might try to do something similar but with Ian's POV. Let me know what you think, and we'll see !!
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](angeliangallagher.tumblr.com)


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